Family
by rsh13
Summary: A set of oneshots revolving around some of my favorite Hetalia pairings and OC children I've thought up for them. Will probably include LietPol, Franada, SuFin, USUK, Spamano, GerIta, Prustria, SwissLiech, DenNor, GiriPan, and RoChu. Will have MPREG
1. Spamano Snow

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing that you recognize. I only own the OC children.

**Author's note:  
><strong>I've been planning this set of oneshots for a while now, but wasn't sure which one to start with. I have a _crap-load_of Spamano ones written, but there are some DenNor and GerIta ones started.

And yes, probably all of these will have hints of or actual mpreg in them, along with yaoi. The only ones that won't be mpreg and yaoi will be the SwissLiech ones. I know that mpreg is not possible, but I like writing it. =P If you don't like it, please do not flame me about it.

I know that this kind of thing has been done before, but I wanted to do my own version.

Oneshots will not be in order. I can put them in order once there are a few if someone asks.

Pairings that may be included are as following (in no specific order): Lithuania/Poland, France/Canada, Sweden, Finland, America/England, Spain/Romano, Germany/Italy, Austria/Prussia, Switzerland/Liechtenstein, Denmark/Norway, Greece/Japan, and Russia/China

**WARNING:** I wrote this one more or less in a child's perspective, so the style sounds more childish than serious.

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><p><strong>Translations (in order of appearance):<strong>  
><strong>(Italian)<strong>  
><em>mamma<em>: mommy  
><strong>(Spanish)<strong>  
><em>papá<em>: daddy  
><strong>(Lithuanian)<br>**_tėtis_: daddy  
><strong>(Polish)<strong>  
><em>mama<em>: mommy  
><strong>(Spanish)<br>**_Sí_: yes  
><em>mi poco de tomate<em>: my little tomato  
><em>querido<em>: dear  
><em>poco de tomate<em>: little tomato

Dorian had never seen snow in southern Italy where he lived with his _mamma_ and _papá_.

He had seen snow before, though, even played in it with his _papá _and Angel and Arianna, sometimes his _mamma_ would join in, too. But, the chance to play in the snow didn't come often; he would have loved if it had.

It was only when his _mamma_ and _papá _traveled for world conferences did he have the chance to play in snow and that was only in some of the colder countries.

He remembered once he played in the snow, after a meeting in Warsaw, with Ania. Her _tėtis_ had even joined them, helping them to build a great big snowman. Her _mama_ helped by supplying some accessories for their creation. Dorian's _papá _had placed a cherry tomato onto the snow creature's face as a nose rather than the traditional carrot.

Dorian really did like playing in the snow when he got a chance. It was really fun. He only wished that he could have snow at his home.

He liked to have snow covering his brown hair, the same shade as his _mamma_'s, and to see the white, sparkly snow glisten in front of his green eyes. He never got to see much of the white texture.

Wait—he had seen his mamma use some white powdery stuff when Angel and Arianna had been in diapers. That stuff reminded him of snow! Yeah, he could have snow in southern Italy!

It had taken him a while, but he finally been able to find the powder.

Where could he sprinkle it?

The living room! Of course, the twins could join in, too! His little brother and sister would enjoy playing with him in the snow!

Dorian took the bottle, twisted the top, and twirled around the living room with it, spreading the white powder across the wooden floor.

"Dori?" Spain asked as walked into the room.

"_Sí, Papá_?" Dorian asked, looking back at his father.

"What are you doing _mi poco de tomate_?" His father asked and walked closer towards the boy.

"I'm making snow!"

Spain kneeled down to make eye contact with his son; the man had a smile plastered upon his face, chuckling at his son's previous comment, "Are you now?The five-year-old nodded happily.

"Spain!" Romano yelled and stormed into the room. He paused when he saw the mess that their son had just made in the living room, "What the hell did _your _son do now? Why did you let him make another fucking mess?"

Dorian was referred to by Romano as his son when he did something good, but referred to as Spain's son when he did something bad.

"He's making snow, _querido_," The Spanish nation beamed, "He's such a smart _poco de tomate_, right Lovi?"

"You're cleaning up this mess." With this, Romano left the room.

"How about helping _Papá _clean up this mess?" Spain asked, turning his attention back to his son.

Dorian shook his head and bolted out of the room.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<br>**Yes, Angel is a boy...It's a Spanish name like that...I think.

Can you guess who Ania's parents are? It isn't hard. *cough*PolandandLithuania*cough*

I've actually done what Dorian did in the story when I was younger, but I said they were "Frosties".

But anyway, if you want to request a oneshot for this set just leave a comment with the pairing and what you want to happen. If you want to know their kids personalities and stuff (still in progress with some of the characters, though), just ask.

But, yeah, I have more finished so I can proofread them and post them.

Reviews are love. ;)


	2. LietPol Cravings 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.****

**Author's note:  
><strong>This is an older fanfic that I had written on my iPod—this was before I got my iPhone, so it's at least from mid-June. I think even wrote it during my dance recital, so yeah, mid-June. I think the characters are a tad out of character, but my mind wasn't helping me much with fixing that, sorry about that.

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><p>"Lithuania!" Poland's voice could be heard through the house.<p>

Lithuania sighed, waiting for Poland to burst through the door of the study, and he did, as if on cue.

"Poland, what's wrong?" Lithuania replied.

"_Liet_, I'm totally craving some orange sherbet." The blond whined and sat down on his husband's lap.

The brunet eyed his love's growing stomach and then looked him in the eyes, "Don't we have any?"

"No, and, like, _your _baby is, like, totally demanding it, y'know. It won't stop bothering me and I really want some right now."

Ever since the two had realized that all nations, even those of male sex, could get pregnant, and that Poland himself had fallen pregnant, the couple had been dealing with this problem for the past four months or so.

Lithuania was so anxious for his son or daughter to be born and for Poland to be ridden of this pregnancy that he had been counting the days down…on every calendar in the house.

"_Liet_, go out and get me some." The Polish nation whined, standing up.

"Let me just finish this paperwork, then I'll—" The other man replied, trying to get back to what he had previously been doing.

"Now, _Liet_! I need some _now_!"

"Poland, I have to finish this—"

"_Liet_, you did this to me and you're not being supportive! I'm craving one little thing and you refuse to go get me some because you have _paperwork _to do. Please, I'm begging." Poland gave a little pout in order to sway him.

"If I go get you some, do you promise to let me get this paperwork done?"

"I promise, now go dote on your pregnant husband." Poland tried yanking Lithuania out of his seat, but to no use.

This couldn't be true, Lithuania knew it: Poland couldn't keep a promise.

"_Liet_, _please_!" Poland whined.

Lithuania sighed again, standing up, "Alright, I'm going, Poland."

"Thank you, _Liet_." Poland said, kissing the brunet on the cheek.

How much longer until this was over?

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><p><strong>Author's note:<br>**I tried to fix the italics that squished to the word after the italicized word, but I'm not sure if I got them all. *is too lazy to read the whole thing over again to check* Remember, reviews are love.


	3. Spamano Tissues

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's note:  
><strong>This is ridiculously short...and a sign that I do too much research on some stuff that I write.

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><p><strong>Translations (in order of appearance):<strong>_**  
><strong>_**(Spanish)**  
><em>amor<em>: love

"Spain! I need more tissues!" Romano groaned, holding an empty tissue box and walking into the living room where Spain was watching TV.

A downfall of his pregnancy was that his nose had started to stuff up.

Before Spain could process it, Romano threw the cardboard box at him, "Where did you put the other boxes, bastard?"

"There aren't anymore."

"Then go get more…bastard!"

"Certainly, _amor_."

This reply earned Spain a hard slap across the face.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<br>**Reviews are still love. ;)


	4. Franada Papa Don't Preach

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but Ashley and Avery, everything else is not mine.

**Author's note:  
><strong>This one has been sitting on my computer for who knows how long. It's based on a MAD video on YouTube (Just search "Franada Papa Don't Preach" if you want to watch it.). This is probably the only time that England would actually care about Canada just because he hates France so much. =| Poor Canadia. Wait—that's not right. What's his name again? Only joking, but still.

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><p><strong>Translations (in order of appearance):<br>(French)**  
><em>mon amour:<em> my love  
><em>Angleterre<em>: England  
><em>mon ange<em>: my angel

Canada felt his hands sweat as he waited patiently for England to answer the door. The Englishman was going to be so angry, but the Canadian had to tell him.

"_Mon amour_, it's going to be fine." France assured the younger, smaller blond upon sensing his tenseness; France rubbed circles into Canada's hoodie-clad back.

"I'm just worried." Canada replied and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jacket.

"I know you are, but remember that I'm here for you." He brushed back the younger nation's curls, kissing his forehead.

"Oh," England said after opening the door of his and America's home, "You're here, Canada. What's the _frog_doing with you?"

"_Angleterre_, you don't have to be so rude to your guests." France responded to England's comment.

"Dad, we have to tell you something." Canada spoke up—it was as if he had been forgotten, but that would never happen.

"Don't tell me that you two are…together," The English nation said.

"It's worse, Dad."

"Well," England sighed, "Come in."

Canada could feel his chest feel light with nervousness. This couldn't be happening; he couldn't be telling England what had had him losing sleep for the last three weeks. No, this _couldn't_be happening.

"Mummy," A boy about eight years old came walking into the front hallway, "Daddy's being a twat again."

The boy had neatly trimmed dirty-blond hair and sparkling green eyes, a pair of glasses situated in front of them. He was wearing a blue sweater-vest with a white, long-sleeved polo underneath. He had a pair of khaki pants on with white socks covering up his feet.

England smiled and turned around to look at his son, "Ashley, you're a smart boy, now say 'hello' to your uncle and France."

"Dad, I thought we established that the boys called France 'Uncle,' also." Canada spoke up.

England scowled, but he knew Canada was speaking the truth and didn't bother to put up a protest, "Say 'hello' to your uncles."

Ashley smiled, running towards Canada and France, hugging their legs. France lifted the boy into his arms and Ashley hugged both Canada and France around the neck.

"Uncle Canada! Uncle France!" Another boy yelled.

A light-haired blond came running after his uncles, his dark blue eyes filled with glee; rather prominent eyebrows lay above the blue orbs. He was dressed in a simple T-shirt and denim shorts; he had a pair of Converse tennis shoes on, the laces on one being undone. The little boy of about three tripped over the loose lace and fell onto the wooden floor.

"Avery," England gasped, dropping to his knees next to his, now crying, youngest son. He kissed his son's forehead and drew him into his arms. He rocked back and forth in a calming motion.

"Hey, Mattie!" America greeted happily as he walked into the hall, "Hey, France! How are ya two?"

Canada smiled, "We're doing fine, thank you."

"That's good to hear." America replied. He then noted his youngest child was wailing in his mother's arms.

"He fell." England answered before America could question.

America nodded and turned his attention back to his brother, "What are you two doing here anyway?"

"_Mathieu_and I came here to tell you some good news." France answered.

"I wouldn't say it was that great of news." Canada muttered.

"Nonsense, _Mathieu, _this is wonderful news!" France insisted in unison as America said, "It can't be that bad, Mattie!"

"What is this news?" England asked, looking up from Avery.

"I'd rather not say it with the children in the room." Canada replied.

"Hey, Ashley, how about you take Avery outside and teach him how to play some great American football?" America asked rather loudly.

Ashley looked away from his uncles and to his father, his face scrunched up in disgust, "Do I have to?"

"You take after your mother too much. You need to lighten up." America replied. He walked over to the three by the door and took the eight-year-old into his arms, "Now come on."

America started towards the end of the hallway. He grabbed Avery's hand on the way to the backdoor, dragging the toddler with him.

"And don't come back in until Avery knows everything about baseball!" America yelled as he slammed the door.

"I thought you said that I had to teach him how to play football!"

England cringed at the sound of the backdoor being slammed. He stood up and walked over to his guests, "Let's go into the living room."

Canada and France nodded, following England into the living room. America came in after them; he jumped onto the couch next to England as if imagining that he was a ninja.

France and Canada were situated adjacent to the other pair on another couch.

"Dad, Al, I know that this is going to be a shock, but I'm not changing anything about this." Canada said, staring down at his lap. His hands were intertwined with France.

"I'm going to need your help." Canada continued, "This isn't easy to do, so please take it easy on me. Dad, please don't preach because my mind's made up."

"It's alright, _mon ange_." France whispered.

Canada took a breath and placed his hands on his stomach, "I'm…I'm pregnant. It's France's baby."

"That's great, Mattie!" America exclaimed, hopping off the couch, embracing his brother into a hug.

"You _frog_!" England yelled. He pounced onto the Frenchman, "How dare you do this to him? You've ruined him!"

"Dad! Stop!" Canada cried, breaking off his hug from his brother.

He tried to pry England off of his lover, but to no use. He sent a pleading look to the American nation. Being the hero and all, America was easily able to pull his husband off of the other nation.

"Let me go!" England yelled, squirming in America's grip.

"Dad, please calm down," Canada pleaded, his arms crossed over his stomach, "This stress can't be good for me."

"How can I calm down? You're carrying France's bastard child!" England argued.

Canada felt his hormones working up. He placed a hand over his mouth and squinted to try to hold back tears. He rushed towards the door, stopping to turn to England with teary eyes, "I'm keeping my baby." He ran out the door and collapsed down on the steps, crying into his hands.

"See what you did?" France asked bitterly, going out the door after his lover.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<br>**Don't worry the four of them will make up eventually. =D Reviews are love. ;)


	5. Spamano Cuddle

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's note:  
><strong>I love Spamano too much.

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><p><strong>Translations (in order of appearance):<br>(Italian)  
><strong>_siesta_: nap**  
><strong>  
>Pregnancy treated Romano fairly well.<p>

Sure, he had the negative symptoms of frequent urination, "morning" sickness, fatigue, to name a few, but his mood wasn't as sour. In fact, the Italian's mood was actually favorable due to hormones.

During the earlier days of his first pregnancy, Romano would often feel needy, wanting Spain to be at his side at all times. Spain loved this; there was nothing that made him happier than to spend time with the younger nation.

"_Spain!_" Romano whined while laying down, getting ready for another _siesta_—he often napped more during these days considering the toll the whole ordeal was taking on his body, "_Spain!_"

Spain rushed off to Romano's aid as soon as he heard him call. He found the Italian curled up in a fetal position on their bed.

"Come lay down with me already," Romano demanded in a cry, "I'm lonely. Stupid Spain."

Spain smirked, filled with glee, and obeyed the order.

He really loved his little tomato and the tomato that was growing within his first tomato.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<br>**The way I worded that last sentence is weird.


	6. LietPol Cravings 2

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Author's note:  
><strong>You'd think that with no one to talk to (Reagan! Why did your mom make you go to camp for two weeks? I finally finished _Death Note_!), I'd finish things more often. This was finished, but I tried to write new things, but I stop in the middle of them all. I have a DenNor one started and a RoChu started; I just can't get past the first few hundred words! Ugh, I'm just too lazy.

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><p><strong>Translations (in order of appearance):<br>(Polish)  
><strong>_Kocham cię_: I love you  
><strong>(Lithuanian)<br>**_Aš tave myliu taip pat_: I love you, too.

"_Liet_," Poland's voice interrupted the other nation's slumber, "_Liet_, wake up"

"Huh?" Lithuania's eyes fluttered open, "What's wrong? Is it time?"

"No, I'm only, like, five months pregnant; I totes have four more left. _Liet_, I'm, like, craving some, like, chocolate. Go downstairs and, like, get me some."

Lithuania sat up in bed and stared at his husband, "Are you serious?"

"Yes," Poland pouted, "I can't help it that I'm, like, craving things; it's totally the baby's fault." The blond nearly looked on the verge of tears, "It's, like, just one little, like, craving and you act like it's, like, a big deal. I'm, like, carrying your baby. Satisfying, like, my cravings is totally the least that you can do, like, totally, to the max."

"Okay, okay," Lithuania said, softening his expression and placing a hand on the crying blond's shoulder, "I'll go get you some, okay? Feliks, you alright?"

The latter nodded his head, "Th-thank you, _Liet_."

"It's no problem. I'm sorry for acting that way. This whole thing is stressing me out, too. You're right; I should at least do these things. I'll be right back, okay?"

"_Liet_?"

"Yeah?"

"_Kocham cię_."

Lithuania smiled at his lover, "_Aš tave myliu taip pat_."

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><p><strong>Author's note:<br>**Actually, Poland, pregnancy lasts forty weeks, hate to break it to you. (Why, oh why, did my mother have to be a nurse?) But, reviews make for a happy Rachel. ;) (Can you tell it's late? I seem to be zoning out of subjects easily, so much that I can't find the proper words to use. I'm so glad this oneshot was done already or else it would have been a mess.)


	7. DenNor Den's Going to be a Far

**Disclaimer:**I own nothing.

**Author's note:  
><strong>When was the last time I updated a oneshot in this? It said August 1st. I was probably just hyperventilating over going to high school, but it's really not that bad. I've gotten lost countless times, but I got there before the tardy bell rang; let's hope I can do this this week when it really matters. Oh gosh, theater and German are so fun!

But anyway, I just love DenNor so much, and that's why this was written. I also just broke the pattern that seemed to be going on with Spamano every other chapter.

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><p><strong>Translations (in order of appearance):<br>(Danish)  
><strong>_Norge_: Norway  
><em>far<em>: father  
><em>Jeg elsker dig<em>: I love you  
><strong>(Norwegian)<strong>  
><em>Jeg elsker deg også, Danmark<em>: I love you, too, Denmark

"I'm pregnant."

Norway's expression didn't change from his normal one as he sat across the table from Denmark.

The Dane looked at the other man with a look of confusion, shock, and pure bliss. He was about to rush up to embrace the Norwegian into a hug, but the stoic man placed a hand on his chest, "Sit back down."

"What's wrong, _Norge_? Don't you want it?"

Obviously, that couldn't be the problem: Norway had been moping around for such a long time; Denmark had found out that Norway had wanted a child just half a year ago. But, despite this, Denmark couldn't think of what else Norway could want to say.

Denmark obliged to the Norwegian's command, nevertheless.

"I want you to know that you _will_be with me for the next eight and a half months."

"Wait—you're only two weeks?"

"Six weeks, pregnancy lasts forty weeks, dumb ass."

"How am I supposed to know that?"

Norway shrugged, not bothering to answer the question, "You had better stay with me when I'm even moodier than I usually am, when I'm fat and you're not going to want to fuck me anymore, and when I'm ordering for you to get me whatever craving on a whim."

"Oh, _Norge_, of course I'm going to stay with you! I love you!"

Denmark stood up again, getting ready to embrace the other in a hug.

"Sit down; I'm not doing nagging to you yet."

Denmark chuckled quietly and sat back down. Norway was _such_a critic.

"You know, _Norge_, I really, really love you."

"You'd better. I'm carrying your spawn, after all."

It finally hit Denmark: There was a mini-Norwegian-Dane inside of Norway, a tiny being half-Denmark and half-Norway, a perfect combination of the two of them.

"I'm going to be a _far_!"

Denmark jumped from where he had been sitting at the kitchen table, knocking the wooden chair onto the tiled floor.

"You didn't realize this when I said 'I'm pregnant'?"

Norway was unaffected by the Dane's sudden outburst.

"_Nor_! There's a mini-us inside of you! Isn't that great?"

Norway nodded silently. He was suddenly embraced by the other Nordic—when had he moved to the other side of the table?—his hand resting on the temporarily flat stomach. Norway placed his hands onto his lover's.

"This is absolutely perfect, Norway. You've made me so happy." Denmark placed a kiss on the crown of Norway's head, "You've never looked more beautiful. _Jeg elsker dig,_so, so much."

"_Jeg elsker deg også, Danmark._"

And in that moment, neither had felt happier in a long time.

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><p><strong>Author's note:<br>**Reviews are very much appreciated. ;)


	8. AusPru Prussia, the Awesome Mutti

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Author's Note:

I haven't touch this account in who knows how long. XD Back in May, I got a review requesting for me to post a Prustria/AusPru/PruAus oneshot and I've finally gotten off my lazy ass to do so. (I have no excuse for the hiatus; I don't think school counts.)

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><p><strong>Translations (in order of appearance):<strong>

_**German**_  
><em>Vater<em>: Father  
><em>Mutti<em>: Mom

"Come on, just one won't hurt anything."

Prussia eyed the can of beer Denmark held in his hand. The world meeting was about to start and Prussia could feel the pressure welling up inside him. He wanted that drink so damn bad, but he knew he couldn't have it—he may be awesome, but he sure as hell wasn't stupid. He tried to think up a million excuses of why he couldn't accept the "drink of the awesome" as he'd dubbed it.

Confidence boiling within, Prussia puffed his chest up proudly and declared, "I've decided I'm too awesome to drink beer!"

All chattering came to an abrupt stop; no one made a single sound as they stared at the ex-nation.

"Are you alright, Prussia?" Spain spoke up with concern for his friend.

"Hm," Hungary muttered, walking over to the albino, "You're not drinking…and your clothes have seemed to be tighter," With these words, she tugged at the fabric around his abdomen, "You've refused to have sexy-times with Austria for the last month or so…"

Austria felt his face burn red, "That's not something you tell people! And how do you even know—"

"Hush! I know what's wrong!"

All nations in the room stared at the Hungarian woman as she went on with her findings, "Prussia is pregnant! Yay for mpreg!"

"I'm…" Austria felt himself utter, "I'm going to be a _Vater_?!"

"Yep!" Prussia suddenly exclaimed, "Our kid is going to have the most **AWESOME** _Mutti_!"

The sound of Germany slapping his palm against his forehead was heard throughout the room.


	9. Spamano Congrats!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Author's Note: **I found this finished and decided to spam you guys some more. (I have no idea if the Italian is right; this was translated using Google Translate and we all know how reliable that is...)

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><p><strong>Translations (In order of appearance):<br>(Italian)  
><strong>_fratello_: brother  
><em>Congratulazioni<em>: Congrats  
><em>Grazie<em>: Thanks

It wasn't until Romano hit the third month mark of his forty week journey that the couple decided to tell anyone. Before they decided to break the news to the whole world—other nations were already suspicious, though—Romano insisted that they tell his "stupid" brother first.

"That's great, _fratello_!" Italy exclaimed happily when he was given the news, "_Congratulazioni__!_"

"_Grazie_, _fratello_," Romano replied, not sounding half as enthusiastic as his brother.

Italy embraced his brother into a hug.

Telling the rest of the nations came after telling those close to Romano and Spain. They decided to just get it done with during a meeting.

Once the meeting had started and before issues could start to be discussed, Spain stood up. "I have an announcement."

All eyes were on the Spaniard.

"Lovi and I are expecting!"

Romano, from his seat next to Spain's, smacked him on the arm. "You're not the one who's pregnant, idiot! I am."

Spain sat back down, "Either way, my little tomato is going to have a little tomato of our own." He gave his lover a quick peck on the lips, which Romano tried to fight against.

There were many congratulations given, along with some complaints of how much moodier Romano was going to be; though overall, it seemed that everyone was happy for the two.


	10. Spamano Heartbeat

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Author's Note: **More Spamano spam coming your way, readers. :P (I have no idea how long ago I wrote this.)

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><p><strong>Translations (In order of appearance):<br>(Spanish)**  
><em>sí<em>: yes**  
><strong>

It was…amazing, for lack of a better word, when they heard the baby's heartbeat.

They had gone to a doctor's appointment—the doctor had specialized as a medical professional for nations—and she rubbed the gel on Romano's stomach, causing the hotheaded Italian to bitch, "Damn it! That's cold!"

Spain wouldn't let go of Romano's hand the whole time, and it seemed that Romano didn't even care.

The two were entranced by the picture of the baby via sonogram. Romano felt his eyes start to burn and blinked back the tears. He wasn't going to cry, damn it.

"Would you like to hear the baby's heartbeat?" The doctor asked, a smile plastered upon her face.

"_Sí, sí!_" Spain nodded enthusiastically.

And then they heard it, the fast beat of _bump-bump bump!_

Spain was sure that he saw tears coating Romano's eyes, but he thought it was best not to say anything.


End file.
